


Entreat Me Not to Leave You

by ProbablyShouldBeStudying



Category: Thor (Movies), Thor - Fandom
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Golden boy Thor, Loki doesn't care he doesn't give a shit, M/M, Narcissistic Loki, Other, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Slow Burn, Spoilers, Thor Feels, tsundere loki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-09 23:30:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12899187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProbablyShouldBeStudying/pseuds/ProbablyShouldBeStudying
Summary: I EDITED THIS BUSINESS and also reworked it after Infinity War. It's going in a new direction. LOTS of self hatred, references to suicide and mental/emotional suffering.Thor got beat-up by the Goddess of Death and survived. Teetering on the edge of a breakdown, he wanders the ship to stave off his grief. Luckily, Loki was feeling restless as well. If Loki can manage to keep himself sane, avoid the Hulk and survive, maybe his mind will find it's way from the darkness.





	Entreat Me Not to Leave You

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first time I have ever written a fan fiction ever. I've edited several times, but let's be honest, it's probably rough. If you know how to edit and would like to, let me know! Hope you like angst.

The repairs had taken only a few hours... but caring for the wounded, food ration distribution and the management of scant resources took days before the ship managed to settle into a crude routine. 

Now, in the dwindling vestiges of the past four days- or 96 hours, the Æsir had retired and not a child nor animal scurried the halls…

Unlike the halls of Asgard, the ship seemed devoid of life. There was no merriment, mourning, or licks of seidr… it was a ship full of emptiness. It was a ship filled with quiet despite it being the only noise produced in this region of space for unquantifiable number of thousands of years for light travel.

After the mass exodus from Asgard, all refugees of the Grand Master’s vessel were spent. The newly redeemed God of Mischief was an oxymoron in that he parried light-hearted regard to the bemused expats while also functioning as their strictest overseer with day-to-day ship function. 

Loki had insisted on imposing a curfew. Healers and warriors and seidr users alike were stripped of the ethereal connection to Asgard, and too many were tittering close to mortal fatigue; even the King of the Æsir was forced to admit wear, and he too retired early to his room. 

Thor’s chamber was slightly larger, a large square bed with standard sheets strewn atop it took up the far corner, beholding before it a grand window peering into the universe’s expanse. A sizable desk and lounging furniture littered itself in the center of the room while flamboyantly colored sheets and pillows lay purposefully untouched into the farthest corner from the bed. 

However, the spacious and comfier bedroll did little to allay the new King. Thor could go without sleep for months, but the most rest he had gotten for the past year had been after the Hulk had knocked him out cold on Sakkar. 

So much has happened, and unfamiliar anxiety gnawed at Thor. His mind would not find peaceful rest that was once so easily found even within borders of enemy lands. That mindless, arrogant child he no longer was. skin prickled with new, raw energy that burned while his mind felt aged and weak, as though the darkness of Norr had personally thrust her beast’s hoof onto his soul, and dragged the god through the Nine Realms beneath it. 

The silence thrummed in his skull now. Every small movement of disquiet, a deep sigh or a slight turn in the sheets, sliced into the dull emptiness within his quarters. The itch of rough fabric not quite reaching his toes, the occasional droll of the ship’s engines, and the emptiness drilled into his fevered head. He was surrounded by emptiness. Emptiness surrounded the massive vessel that drifted amongst the archipelago of small galaxies on the edge of Yggdrasil’s branches. Nothingness screamed loudly into his mind and would not give him peace. It felt alive… and it was drawing nearer and nearer… it began whispering to him… Thor would ignore it, but his heart would beat ever faster, and faster… the quiet got louder and louder, the pitch of the screams getting higher and higher. 

The pool of sweat behind his back was becoming cold, and that was as good of an excuse as any for the thunderer to tear the sheets from his bed and give into his restlessness. The quiet scream became silent. 

As soon as his foot bears his weight, Thor stumbles as his whole body rendered it’s own noiseless chorus of pain. His muscles contracted, spasms splintered from his back and swelled into the curve of meat in his arm. 

“Ahhhk-” he hissed out. He could practically feel Hel’s dagger reanimating itself on his arm. He steadied himself upright and tried to roll his shoulders around as he let out a shaky breath to help relieve the tension. 

Ignoring the growing pain, Thor stubbornly lumbered towards the window. By no small exaggeration, the Thunder God had never been closer to death’s embrace. His body’s exhaustion did not completely surprise him, but it did raise his ire, or at least that’s what he told himself it was… certainly it was not fear that compelled him. 

Normally, Æsir wounds would have sealed, bruises would have faded, and pain would have subsided; but there was no release. There was no release and no warm, soaking baths to alleviate his taught mind and body. Since the All-Father passed, something had been building… 

Vaguely, Thor wondered if his wounds were still bleeding. 

Had Hela survived? Was Surtur still dancing on the shattered remains of-

Thor’s eyes pinched shut. 

He fought it yet the scene kept repeating itself: the Twilight Sword plunging into the heart of Asgard, a bright, fiery explosion was seared into his mind. 

The realm of the Æsir was gone. The All-Father was gone. Ragnarok... 

And then… quiet. 

There was a disorienting nausea that overtook Thor suddenly and a seizure of pain rolled into his body. Thor steadied himself and frantically reached for purchase on the nearby table and-

He fell. 

The graceless tumble threw Thor’s heavy body fast onto the floor, his hand having had missed the table entirely- well, not entirely. Thor’s head had made sharp contact with the desk’s edge before he was writhing on the cold floor. Pain ricocheted from every nerve, and he rolled into himself. The thunderer’s muscled body was stiff and less pliant to hard falls and he groaned hopelessly at his own foolishness. 

How does the King of Asgar- the Æsir, manage to feel more vulnerable and more stupid than he did when he had first been banished to Midgard? A mere desk had bested the thunderer’s notoriously thick skull. And some how, he had missed the footstool that had sent him crashing into the floor as well.

Thor cradled his throbbing head and with great effort he moved to get up off the floor.

His elbows locked. 

No, he was not ready for that yet. Thor shook so violently that he let himself catch a few desperate breaths, remaining on his hands and knees. 

“Father…” he ground out. 

His mind was chaotic, it kept flying from terrible topic to topic. Hela, Sakaar, Surtur, Asgard… Odin.

Some two years Thor had spent trying to keep Ragnarok from occurring… all the while his father slipped closer and closer to death… alone. 

Did Odin regret dying on Midgard? 

Did he wish for his final days to be spent on Asgard before Thor ignited the prophecy that sent the Realm-Eternal to a smoldering pit? 

Did he wish to lay beneath Indun’s apple trees- Frigga’s favorite tree? 

Two years Thor could have spent with his father. Two years instead of a moment to hear a simple farewell, leaving a lifetime to decipher a millennia of schemes and enterprising. Still Thor hardly understood the depths of Asgard’s connection to neither the Nine Realms, nor his father’s true intentions or even the true history of Odin’s reign. 

Two years he spent preventing Ragnarok, only to lose his father, kill his sister, and rouse Ragnarok by his own hand. 

Thor never had the presence of mind to wonder about too much for too long… but now it seemed like these thoughts could not stop themselves from spiraling. 

He felt another wave of anxiety grip his heart. Thor tried to keep Surtur from reappearing in his mind. 

Instead Odin appeared, his father’s tired face looking so peacefully resigned to death as he slipped away into golden effervescent embers to Valhalla. 

Pain shot through Thor’s chest like lightening, hot and searing, except this was a ferocious, desperate pain- not at all like the spidery sinews of energy that he felt on the bridge to the bifrost. The inside of his nose suddenly exploded with fire as liquid poured out of his nostril while tears stung his eye…s… 

Thor’s hand deftly went to the patch covering the… the… the hole. There was a wetness beneath the patch, but it was thick, sticky and warm… Not the same tears streaking his left check.

‘That’s right,’ Thor’s mind was pulled back into his body. The vertigo of thoughts that raged calmed suddenly; his head stopped spinning.

Thor ran his mangled hands through his hacked up scalp, only letting a small sound echo into the room. The damage focused his pain to his head while more tears spilled from his good eye; bloodied mucus dripped from his nose. 

Thor heaved himself to sit against the desk, his bright blue eye grazing into nothingness. His vision had not adjusted yet, and he still grew dizzy staring at something for too long. He sniffed and wiped his nose clean. He had no audience here with him tonight, but he feigned composure regardless as he tried desperately to calm himself down. 

Stubby, split nails picked at small scabs and bruises till the rapid beating of Thor’s heart settled, and his breathing slowed, and his mind no longer felt like a frenzied panic. The pain became less acute, and more of a dull thrum once more.

Feeling more capable of moving again, Thor first shrugged off his tunic. He had soaked it thoroughly with his sweat and the damn thing was uncomfortably tight. The muscles in his back and arm where he was stabbed flared, but he could manage to grit his teeth through it. Free of his garment, he then stood, taking measure to grip the desk this time. 

The dull, unremarkable view outside his window was easy enough on his eye so Thor stared wistfully at the empty expanse despite himself. His thoughts slowed, his pulse did not beat into his chest, and his heated sweat began to chill him. 

“Such madness- ahhk,” pain sharpened in his nose. “Here stands Mighty Thor… fretting over small scraps and bruises…” He hissed out, half laughing at his own weakness and half desperate to share with anyone how… he felt. How much he was feeling at every moment… How this quiet was shouting and yelling and tormenting his mind, body, and soul. 

He held his breath… Stillness without a wind to comfort him.

No… There was no one there. He was alone. 

Tightness reared itself back into his chest and there was a surge of pressure building, a feeling as though he might vomit. 

Desperation suddenly overtook the thunderer and he no longer held pretenses about desiring company. Turning slowly, Thor peered into the darkest shadows of his room, beneath curves of furniture and into the creases of corners. A dim, blue light sometimes caught flat surfaces and edges- but his brother was not there. 

Loki had a knack for appearing where Thor was least expected him- when Thor least desired him to be around. But whenever Thor looked for his younger brother, whenever Thor wanted to find him, Loki was nowhere to be found.

Naturally. 

Groaning, Thor inhaled a few large gales of breath to loosen his taught chest. There was a brief moment when Thor mused to perhaps attend to matters of the Æsir- but the thought so immediately terrified him that it was tossed to the side without a second thought. The same thing happened when Thor thought to contact Stark or the Lady Natasha and brief them on his imminent arrival- with all of Asgard’s refugees along with him. 

There was so much to do, and the responsibility lay with him; the stress was devastating. Anxiety began to creep back once more and Thor suddenly found himself throwing a sheet about him and storming out of his quarters, attempting to run from this desperation that held him so. 

There was no destination in mind, but a light walk about the ship allowed Thor to both assess the state of the vessel and escape his own thoughts; he always preferred physical activities to the meanderings of his mind. 

Unfortunately there were no giants to fight, and no Bilge Snipes to slaughter. There was only the meanderings of his maddened mind running and surrounded by fear… He sped up, and unwittingly made his way towards the navigation center of the ship. 

 

Loki idly turned a small, green flame in his hand and let it crawl warmly over his willowy fingers. He laid atop his assigned bed, his unoccupied arm cradling his head with his dark hair was strewn over his slender neck and shoulders. He was dressed lightly in his lounging robe of emerald green dotted with golden inlays with a warm black furred shawl draped about him. 

The trickster fondled the flame, and wove it into a golden twine before it knotted into a small opening; the Tesseract was still secure in the dimensional fold Loki had tucked it into. Quickly, he sealed the door and went back to musing. 

Or, he would like to muse if he could conjure a worthy thought to his mind. Instead he wriggled his foot impatiently, drawing another green fire into the air. Loki fiddled with the animate flame, tickling it and drawing it about his palm before crushing it. Loki conjured another small flame, this one fat and bright; he threw it into the wall where it dissipated, it’s embers licking alight before dissappearing. 

Loki did not normally waste his seidr on such useless toying, but after all he had spent on healing others, it felt rather therapeutic. Briefly he had the urge to set someone’s room on fire, but it left him soon enough. Strangely he could not think of anything that bothered him.

Dark lashes lazily drooped over Loki’s evergreen eyes. He looked out his window at the unmoving stars. The ship was well on its’ way to Midgard, or to Earth as Thor liked to call it. 

‘… I suppose we could arrive immediately, if I told Thor of the Tesseract and used it’s power to open a gateway as such…’ he thought dryly… he could do that… for maybe himself and Thor. This was not the first time this thought had occurred to Loki. This thought is why Loki was not able to move or distract himself. He was consumed with consequences; the consequences of taking the Tesseract; the consequences of him staying on this ship… with Thor. The consequences also seemed so much more present now than they ever had been for anything else. And he supposed it was because his choice had been so decisive. It was a conscious choice, it was pregnant with consequences and it demanded attention, it would force admission, and most horribly of all, it put him in the position to answer for all of his previous choices. 

Loki had stayed rather than use the Tesseract to teleport to anywhere in the entire realm. Loki could have gone back to Sakaar and ruled it; he could have brought back theater and culture to that waste heap. He could have just enjoyed doing what he had been doing before, he could have forgotten all about consequences. Loki could have had hundreds of worlds with the power of the Tesseract alone. But no, instead he fought his way back to the crumbling waste of Asgard’s doom brimming with drones of the dead and flying swords. He risked the flames that consumed the palace. He fought to make his way back after he was abandoned on Sakaar. And why? He knew the answer now… and acknowledging that answer was profoundly comforting. His rage, jealously, and hatred abated immediately and his madness adjourned without a word. He… felt like himself again… riddled now with wariness, sorrow and longing, but himself. He played with things that he could do to both torment the Hulk and bring a stupid smile to his idiot brother’s face. Thoughts were gentle currents and not waves of passion… he was content. And that was horribly tragic. 

Loki’s thin lips pursed and he sighed heavily. At least the ship was quiet; Loki quite enjoyed the quiet. He craned his neck to see more out of his window; a deep purple and blue nebula glittered not far off in the distance.

You will have your war, Asgardian… and if you fail, if the Tesseract is kept from us, there will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where he can't find you… The Other’s terrible promise echoed into his mind; Loki shuddered. He still was unable to piece together reality and fiction between his fall from Asgard and his sudden collaboration with the mad Titan, Thanos. Loki would try to unwind his memory, pull out small pockets of truth intermittent with the horrific pain, but he would lose himself in doing so; too much pain, too much confusion. It was better to acquiesce this madness of uncertainty than to try to understand it. All that he was certain of was that his mind had never been the same since Thanos had found him. 

Now that he was free, Loki anticipated that these moments of peace were not long for this world. He had most graciously failed to keep up his end of the deal with Thanos, and he had indeed kept the Tesseract from the Titan’s hands. At any moment, this meandering vessel could happen upon the warmonger’s ship and all abroad would perish… including, or especially, him. 

But Thanos had not been able to locate Loki yet, and tempting him to do so now by using the Tesseract was a courting Loki would rather abate. 

‘So, I neglect to mention the Tesseract… We return to Midgard where I am presumably under the protection of the ki- my idiotic brother. And then what?’ Loki thought sourly that this plan was as ridiculously simple as it was improbable. 

‘Wishful thinking,’ he thought dryly. He could certainly make use of the Tesseract once the arch had arrived on Midgard, but he was suddenly embittered by the idea. 

Presumably he would have to use the Tesseract and, again, draw attention to himself; plus, he would certainly be alone. Abandoning Thor was not as appealing to his mind as it used to be, either. It would not be any fun if Thor expected him to vanish at any given moment. And Thor has been… a model leader in all of this mess. He even took to Loki’s request to preside over civil functions without an argument. 

He had only smiled and said, ‘if it is your wish to do so, Loki, then I’d be happy to have you’. Loki relished having some control again; after all he was quite good at it. But once more, Thor had thwarted what could have been a marvelous excuse to abandon ship. Thor had let Loki have a role of power- without distasteful distrust or overwhelming encouragement. He just let it happen with peaceful resignation. 

All the more, the Æsir actually did not take sword and shield against him. Oh, they were witless fools lost and needing of guidance to be sure, but they lacked underlying malice or mistrust. 

If he were not as intelligent as he was, Loki would be tempted to assume they had forgiven him. Small children followed him around while he organized healers; warriors took his commands without any misgivings; even the damn cooks offered him his favorite treats. The greater society of Asgard even made efforts to thank him. He had crossed paths with the goddess Idunn, who had offered one of her apples. The situation was not… horrible. And Thor was leaving him alone.

Loki curled into his dark furs and petted them absentmindedly. Idunn had actually given him two apples… 

‘My… prince,’ she had exhibited such an elegant composure, ‘though I could not save Asgard’s orchards, I will now be able to plant her seeds in new realms… I thank you and King Thor.’ Idunn gleaned two golden apples from a shimmering cloth, her words as crisp and sweet. ‘Take heed, that so long as Loki is of Asgard, so long as the God of Mischief stays by the King’s side, the Æsir will be grateful to him.’ 

She had not out right said it, but Loki knew she had tasked Loki with depositing this gift to Thor. He looked to his bedside table where a withering magicked flame danced above some books and the shimmering cloth that was rounded over two apples. 

Loki supposed he could put off deciding what to do with himself later. He was bored in any case. He languidly rose from his bed and slipped on his flattering slippers, the ones with a slight rise in the heel. Loki had missed the luxuries of Asgard, and since he was disguised as the All-Father he had not been given the full ability to garnish himself the way he used to like. 

This robe was as ornate as it was simple. The gown ran silken rivets over his svelte silhouette; catching the slight curve of his waist only just before billowing out, with a sharp slip showing off his milky, lean legs. Being Odin was fun, but he missed feeling himself in these cloths. Before, as a young prince, he was ridiculed for his penchant for a more… queer sense of style. 

In Æsir society, appearances had weighed heavily, but might easily out-won grace. Loki had never lacked in brutish violence or shied from a fight, but he was oft dismissed as a simpering coward because of how he fought, and how he looked. 

Loki was strange. Loki was cantankerous, and he slighted the majority of Asgard’s high society by turning them on their heads. Loki had strengthened his mind, his seidr and his tongue. In all of Asgard, only the All-Father and the All-Mother contended with Loki in wit, sorcery, and trickery. More oft than not, Loki only wished to outline the humor in depravity of the prudish and delight in the luster of the impoverished. And yet… And yet he was rejected for his talents. He was argr. He scorned the Æsir for that rejection, and without Loki baring it much thought, he had also scorned himself. This festering hatred was all around him… it was within him… it was always about Loki.

But now… well, Thor would be happy to have his apple he was sure. Besides, Thor was irritating him by being so respectful of his boundaries. 

Loki adjusted his furs, grabbed the two apples and made his way out his door and down the dimly lit hall. Thor’s chamber was not far from his own, but he decided that he’d take a slightly elongated route to stretch his legs… or show them off to any passersby. 

On his walk, he noticed that very few souls littered the ship, and was happy to find that the curfew was being taken seriously, despite him lacking an audience. The people needed to be rested if they were to endure the long trek to Midgard. 

‘Or they are resigned in mourning…’ The sympathetic thought slipped in before he could stop it, and it made him crinkle his brow. 

‘hmph, sentiment.’

Indeed, Loki had managed to save many, but Asgard had also lost so much more. He had been very preoccupied with his own success and praise that he had forgotten that so many had perished while he was on Sakaar. Perhaps he should organize a proper tribute to those who had been sent to Valhalla. 

‘An argr organizing a commemoration to Asgard’s fallen heroes…’ Loki snickered at the idea, but simultaneously began developing a plan to put to action.

Loki slowed, but continued to walk as his mind went back to Thor. Loki had been pretty occupied with himself as of late (nerves mostly) but all and all he truly was surprised Thor was not as present in the ship as he would have imagined him to be. He had seen the damn Valkyrie almost every day. She was more helpful than the ‘King’ was. She was also extremely found of shadowing Loki with the intent to take out her alcoholic withdrawals on any misdemeanor that he would do. Unsurprisingly, she had drank the ship’s store dry by the time of the curfew. He was impressed. But now he was terrified of the resulting hangover that surely he would suffer from the most. 

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp…

Loki was stirred out of his thoughts at the sound of heavy footsteps. His eyes saw a large shadow approach, and fear gripped him fiercely as he remembered that the Midgardian beast resided on the ship as well. His sigh of relief was unforgivably loud when he realized that it was Thor. 

“Ah, Thor, I was just coming to see you,” Loki cooed with a wide, toothy smile. Thor almost brushed past him but stopped dead in his tracks, and turned wide-eyed upon hearing Loki’s voice. Loki’s smile faltered. His big brother’s face was blown wide with what looked to be… fear?

“What troubles you?” Loki asked when Thor continued to stare, “and is that a bed sheet?” Thor looked down at himself and then back to his brother. Loki watched Thor’s face twisted with apprehension. 

“My apologies, Loki, I did not see you,” Thor said quietly, almost as if he could hardly believe it himself. Loki scoffed but then realized he had been to Thor’s right as he had approached. He truthfully had not seen him, and Loki grimaced unhappily.

“Well, never mind. As I was saying, I had been on my way to you already, so it is fortuitous that we’ve just come across one another before we missed our chance.” Loki drawled, as if bored with it. But his eyes were intense on the larger man. His footing was unstable, and he was swaying. Thor was clutching a bed sheet around himself, and… By the Norns, his face was bloodied and smeared with snot. Loki blinked rapidly and reigned in his alarm. 

Thor began to feel his head spin again, “I must go check the status of- of the uh- steering mechanism. I am a fine fighter, but the ship has never navigated itself to Earth before and surely there is something needing to be done,” Thor tripped over his words in a mad frenzy as he tried to find a fixated spot to stare at past Loki’s shoulder. 

“Brother?” 

Loki called to him but Thor could scarcely understand him, he sounded so far away. Thor took a step to steady himself and shook his head. Suddenly, a high-pitched tone assaulted his ears, and he felt cold. He could not focus and before he could catch himself he began to stumble. 

Loki tried to understand the myriad of dribble that came out of Thor’s mouth as he slurred and gripped his head. 

“Brother, perhaps you should lie down,” but as Loki said as such, he stashed away the apples and placed a steadying hand on his brother’s back.

Just as Thor’s blue eye rolled to the back of his head, Loki was able to summon enough seidr to help him catch the Thunder God in his arms. Loki struggled only a moment in his damning heals before he was able to clutch Thor’s much larger girth to his chest, and steer the pair back towards Thor’s room. Loki ambled carefully forward as Thor groaned into his hair. 

“You great, big dolt,” Loki groused, “have you not at all taken heed to rest? The curfew was not merely a means to clear the halls at night…” 

 

“’M sorry, br-Loki… My head feels...” Thor muttered into Loki’s ear. Thor did not smell of mead, and the idea that Thor was this disoriented from something other than drink was… unsettling. 

Loki continued to berate the other until they reached Thor’s chamber. Using practically all of his physical capabilities, Loki managed to heave Thor through the door, breathing heavily and cursing all the while. 

“You laconic lout- overgrown idiot…” Loki spit out through grunts. Thor tried to stand on his own while Loki was moving them towards his bed, but he was only able to redistribute some weight off of Loki’s shoulders. When they reached the bed, Loki crouched so that Thor was able to ease himself down onto the edge. 

For a moment, Loki thought that Thor would simply fall onto his back and pass out. Instead, he seemed intent on staying upright, gripping the covers and letting the sheet he was wearing fall onto his lap and the floor. Thor breathed harshly, and focused on calming himself down. Loki strode across the room and flipped on the warm, yellow lights dotting the walls. Adjusting his robes and furs in front of Thor’s mirror before grabbing the only rag he could find, Loki took a steadying breath of his own before facing his brother once more. 

“D- don’t need to fret-“ Thor tried.

“You’re bleeding.” Loki stated brusquely. Thor’s brow furrowed in confusion, but his hand went to his eye patch and dusted at the wet smears of blood. Quick hands swatted Thor’s large hand away and began wiping his face clean. 

The smell of fresh herbs and the tickle of seidr on his beard meant that Loki had charmed some balm into the cloth. Thor breathed in the calming scent.

Loki rolled his eyes and took Thor’s chin in his free hand to hold him still as he worked the dried crust of snot and blood out of his bristled beard. 

The tonic was more of therapy for an overwrought mind; the spell called forth the fondest scent for any individual while only slightly dulling the senses. Truly, it was the simplest and most common spell healers used on youths and warriors alike. It was as familiar to an Æsir as mead and honeyed bread- often these were the smells that were conjured to the mind as such. Thor rasped out a shaky breath of relief.

“You, you always s-smell so good, brother.” Thor sighed. Loki ignored Thor’s muttered words of contentment, too focused on the task at hand.

Crouching, Loki gently moved Thor’s head up to get at the bristles under his jaw when his eyes caught something shadowed beneath Thor’s breast.

“Lean back- no, no, not your head! Just straighten up,” Loki chided, grabbing Thor’s massive arm and moving it to the side.

As Thor did as he was asked, Loki’s face pinched. A small but deep gash wept slowly with fresh blood from beneath Thor’s ribs; the wound should not be there. Where had it come from? It looked… fresh.

“Does it not bother you?” Loki asked, sounding annoyed. 

“Does what bother me? Is there a bruise? I had an unfortunate slip earlier and it hurt quite a bit.” Thor responded petulantly. 

‘Oh by the Nine, he couldn’t be serious.’ Loki roughly pulled Thor’s shoulder forward to get a look at his back and found yet another small but festering wound eating at Thor’s golden skin. Frowning, Loki shoved Thor back into a straightened position and distantly inspected the rest of his torso, pushing him to his side and then lifting his arms. 

“Let me have a look at your- er, eye, Thor.” Thor seemed to be taking to the charmed balm nicely and complied without hesitation. Loki was almost ashamed that he was taking advantage of his King’s submissiveness and manhandling him while the other was in pain… almost. 

Loki was also quite beside himself, and bullying Thor made him feel better… in a lot of ways. Mostly that he could get away with it at the moment.

Thor scooted onto the bed so that his knees just rounded the edge of the mattress, dropping his shoulders and lifting his chin so that Loki could get a good look at him. Loki knelt onto the mattress next to Thor and held his chin as he gently removed the tawny patch. Thor let out an uncharacteristically shrill cry when the patch caught on something and Loki winced as fresh, dark blood leaked heavily from where Loki had pulled. 

“… Thor, you…” Loki was not squeamish in the slightest, but Thor’s bright blue eye was wide with pain, and though he did not make any more noise, he clearly was fighting to do so. Loki’s frustration suddenly vanished. He let go of Thor for but a moment to incant a sterilization charm onto his hands and went back to straddling Thor’s thighs.

“I need you to be calm for this, and I may need to assess whether there is a seidr blight in the wound, and if so I may need to neutralize it… In order to identify the problem, I cannot use any means to lessen the pain in case the seirdr is faint or unusual in nature.” Loki stated while gently turning Thor’s face in clinical assessment. He would be lying if he said he was not enticed by this strange wound. 

Thor became rigid, nodding in Loki’s hand, “Do what you must… but it can’t be any worse than that time I tried to ride Eikthyrnir-“ 

“I fear that the eye-patch has become caked with dried blood and torn skin,” Loki stomped over Thor’s attempt to stall, “it will hurt quite a bit without a sedative.” Thor frowned and pouted like a small child… not a king.

Loki scoffed.

“You look like a simpering child, not a king.” He vocally repeated.

“Ha! I encourage you to trade places with me and see how well you- wait, Loki, NO!” Loki used the most force he could manage seizing Thor’s square jaw and once more pinched the patch; Thor froze.

“L-Loki, please it hurts!” Thor’s whispers rattled Loki’s brain in their quiet desperation. Thor’s massive hands had grabbed at Loki’s arms, but Loki had been quicker and now they were both frozen in a standoff. 

“Thor,” Loki said carefully, “I need to look at it. I will be gentle, I just need to you trust me.” Thor’s chest heaved and his eye was a bright, blue pin-prick. 

If before he was intrigued, now Loki was disturbed. Thor was acting like a wounded animal. He had never once conceded pain so openly before, and he had never lashed out at anyone as a means to avoid it. Through Loki’s thin rob, small streaks of lightening bit where Thor touched him; a warning whether Thor was conscious of giving it or not. 

“Thor…” Loki said again, this time with far more gentleness. “Thor, I want to help you… I do not wish to see you in pain- this much pain at least.” Thor only loosened his grip enough so that Loki could move. 

Loki wanted to throttle him.

“Thank you.” The trickster muttered. 

Thor closed his only eye and gritted his teeth as Loki tugged at the patch once more. Blood seeped out and Loki flecked the edge of the patch, moving in closer to really ensure he did not pull unnecessarily while breathed cooling runes into Thor’s cheek. The patch lifted easily enough once he removed the bottom but the last side edge caught harshly when Loki pried it too quickly. 

Thor hissed and squeezed Loki’s arms with bruising strength. 

“Shh, shh, shhhh,” Loki hushed, trying not to cry out in pain himself. Loki could tell he was in imminent danger, and a familiar part of him wanted nothing more than to run and let Thor sit in his own blood and suffer.

Still, Loki wiped off the blood that trickled into Thor’s beard, and continued to gently pull off the patch. Loki had moved in close to see the pull of skin and Thor stiffened when the final bit of skin tore free of the patch. Loki was so concentrated that he only just realized how much his arms ached from Thor’s grip. There would likely be a dark bruise there later.

“There now,” Loki summoned clean rags soaked with antiseptic; he rubbed Thor’s socket in gentle circles. 

Thor let out a breath and released the trickster. It felt as though Hela’s serrated sword was dragging itself very, very slowly through his socket once again. 

Loki remained as vigilant as before, but now his focus was on Thor’s wounded eye. Thor tried to keep himself under control, but he kept seeing Hela, and if not Hela, then Surtur… and in some cases a more illusive giant haunted him.

Loki groused and wiped off the beads of sweat appearing on Thor’s temple. “What ever is the problem, brother?” He asked derisively.

Thor shook his head, “everything… my… my mind is no more here than it is… there.”

“That is oddly cryptic, coming from you.” Loki had hoped Thor would elaborate, but Thor remained silent, so Loki continued to cleanse the wound. 

Up close, the wound was quite gruesome. The upper eye-lid was torn in half and the bloodied red flesh swung each time Loki’s fingers brushed the socket; just a few blond lashes remained attached. The hole was black and soupy with charred skin. Loki did not allow himself to look at the other eye… it bothered him more than it should have already and he needed to focus. 

Now that the wound was moderately clear, Loki could put Thor under and determine the nature of the wound- or at least figure out why the wound had not begun to heal.

“This would be easier with a forge,” Loki stated, although he quite liked the challenge. 

The sorcerer licked his liver colored lips in anticipation, and he flexed his slender hands. Placing both palms on Thor head, Loki danced his nimble fingers over Thor’s face while strange libretti flicked off his vigorous tongue. 

Thor’s head suddenly screamed before silencing completely. 

 

Five beats, and suddenly he was in a dark room- or a dark place. Thor turned his head around and nothing stretched on forever. A misty fog pooled around his legs, but he could not make out any solid ground.

Loki? Thor said… or at least he had thought he had said it. He walked around and heard only faint whispers of his brother’s incantation echoing all around him. 

At least the pain was gone. Thor felt relief for the first time in days- or perhaps for the first time in a year. He felt weightless and soothed… Loki’s voice was soothing. Treacherous snake as he was, the damn seidmann was far superior in the ways of magic than any other he had ever known- and Loki had a sense of humor rivaling his skill. 

Loki, Loki, Loki you are a marvel. I thank you for this solace. I find peace at last.

Thor felt himself glow in warmth, soft hands gliding over his face, running their fingers through his hair. 

Peace.

“He sounds just like him, doesn’t he?” Thor was ripped from his reverie when Hela’s ice-cold words tore into his mind. The gentle warmth once weaving over Thor’s body was replaced with cold rakes of pain. 

“But he’s not a child of Odin… Not like you or I… He’s lucky he had dad to civilize that inbred monster. But I suppose even frost giants can be taught to speak, despite running around in tatters on that wasteland.” Thor’s body suddenly felt very real once more.

Reveal yourself! Thor called. No one appeared from the fog and still Thor could not see.

“Even when you have two-eyes, you see only half the picture.” Hela’s, Odin’s and a third unknown tremendous voice boomed all around him.

Where am I! Thor yelled. 

But no one responded. Was he mad? 

He was answered in pain. It shot through him again and again. 

“Unworthy, Unworthy, Unworthy,” the sky chanted.

“These eyes see everything,” Heimdall called, “they see you leading us all to Hel!” Thor’s head swam and the ground fell from beneath him. He was falling.   
“We are already dead! Can you not see it?”

“You’re a destroyer, Odinson.” Heimdall cried, “see where your power leads!”

Blackness.

“… undying…” He heard whispered darkly…

 

Loki slithered and weaved divinations over Thor’s head, and he smiled when Thor seemed to have relaxed. The effect of the trance was not always pleasant, especially for a distressed mind, or an unstable one. But Thor was strong and simpleminded, so he would be fine.

He has changed though, grown in a deeper way than I ever expected, Loki’s hand twitched at the warm thought. No, he had to concentrate. 

Loki wove his fingers over Thor’s handsome brow and slid them down over his eyes, jaw, neck and onto the wound in his ribs. He then slid in closer, worming the seidr over to the wound on Thor’s muscled back and up his shoulders. 

Thor sighed contentedly. 

“Loki,” he whispered hoarsely. Loki’s ear was unfortunately quite close to Thor’s mouth and the words tickled him. Loki felt heat swell into his stomach and he quickly moved the seidr back through Thor’s chest and up again into the eye socket. 

Regaining his composure and with a final rivet of his hand, Loki’s green seidr drew a path of old skrit across Thor’s body where the trickster had trailed it. The bright green light muddled with a lovely golden color, Thor’s aura, laced within it before overtaking it. Loki touched the golden line gently and it sang beautifully. 

“Of course it does…” Loki lamented resentfully. Thor’s soul and mind was a beautiful thing to see, even in a small glimpse like this. Too bad Thor had no idea how truly rare it was for an emanation of ones soul to glow so purely, or sing a polyphonic motet. 

With no witness, and a lacking of self-loathing of late, Loki allowed himself to bask in Thor’s astounding beauty. The sound was glorious, and Loki felt a pain clench his chest, wetness forming in his large, doleful eyes. 

Absolutely beautiful… a marvel of Asgard, Loki thought. He should have known that no darkness would mar here… but he had looked for it anyway.

“I should feel ashamed, brother,” Loki whispered to unhearing ears, “I should have told you how intimate the procedure was… Now I feel perverse- for wanting to find a stain…” A familiar pang of self-directed hatred swelled in the trickster’s pit.

But in any case, his charm had worked, and Thor’s aura did not seem to be corrupted by any tampering. The wounds, however, were definitely an infliction beyond the flesh. It stood to reason that Thor was simply suffering from a- 

“Ah, there it is.” Loki sang. 

A black ember burned in the line within Thor’s socket. It was barely visible, but pulsating with life. A seidr like this was not glad tidings, but it was not the worst thing to find. Hela was a Goddess of Death, after all. If anyone could imbue a leaching, poisonous seidr into their arsenal, it was certainly her. Loki inspected the wounds more carefully and found the toxin in each one. The seidr eating at Thor’s flesh caused pestilent lesions and more pain without killing the receiver, while not allowing the wounds to heal.

Loki tapped a black tipped finger to his lips. This was not something he had encountered before. Surely he could heal it, but he would need to read more about these kinds of pests before subjugating Thor to his insatiable thirst to cut open the first thing he did not understand. 

Thor remained upright, his head tilted upward in a silent resignation to Loki’s spell, his large hands laid atop his knees. Loki walked around in front of him, pursing his lips and thinking of his next steps. He paused in front of Thor, rubbing his fingers together tentatively before reaching out with a bland expression and tapping Thor’s soul trace once more. 

It glowed and rang with a bright warmth, curling a golden tendril around Loki’s pale finger, drawing out his dark green ether. Loki’s cold eyes softened, and felt Thor’s golden line seeking out comfort through the touch. A somber chorus trilled in the runes and Loki looked to Thor’s face to find a tear streaking down his cheek and blood dripping from his nose.

“Oh shit.” Loki breathed. He quickly pulled free of Thor’s attachment and wound his tongue into the ritual unbinding of Thor’s essence, allowing the golden energy to fade back into Thor’s skin. With a few large gestures, Loki released Thor of his trance. 

Thor’s eye blazed open, and he gasped open-mouthed for air. For a moment, all Thor did was breath, until Loki stepped forward. 

“Brother?” Loki asked quietly. 

Thor turned and a fat tear streamed down his rough face; he rubbed it clean and sniffled. 

“Does it hurt?” Loki asked, a mask of disinterest firmly in place. 

“….” Thor stared at Loki with pain clearly twitching his lips, sharpening his eye, and furrowing his brow. 

“…No…” he finally said in a hoarse whisper, glancing off to the side, his whiskered mouth twitching. 

Loki felt insulted that Thor would even try to lie to him; in fact he was almost tempted to slap Thor’s prickly cheek. But looking at his brother’s plainly pained face, and his wide, frightened eyes; Loki’s curiosity got the better of his ego. 

Thor was, besides being physically drained and hardly able to stand, flexed and was visibly ready to fight. His veins bulged taught over his shiny arms and clasped hands. His shoulders were rolled and his jaw was set. His eye never left the moving target in front of him. 

Keeping himself poised, his piercing eyes heavily lidded, lazy, Loki sauntered in front of Thor’s eyes. It was so very wrong to use this trick on his ‘brother’ but the thrill of it, and it’s certain success overwhelmed his shallow morals easily enough. He’d learned that the humans had a term for this, during a viewing of one of their more light but thoroughly entertaining theater productions at the Grandmaster’s halls that found it’s way to Sakaar: “The Bend and Snap” they called it. 

“Hm,” he hummed, adjusting his rob. Loki played with his sleeves, fingered his raven hair, and moved carelessly around the room. He was trying to ease the tension in the room back down, allowing Thor the ability to relax. 

 

“Did you…” Loki began, “did you need something to eat, Thor?” Loki was unnerved by Thor’s predatory stance, but ever cantankerous, Loki came closer and reproducing his apples. 

Thor’s reaction was slow but realization wiped wariness away with every passing moment. 

“Are those the Golden Apples of Indunn’s orchard?” 

Like the wind taking a blade of grass, Loki took this moment to swoop in at Thor’s side, not touching him, but crossing that boundary of foe that was keeping him at bay. 

“They are…” he said with his low and promising voice, “would you… care for one, brother?” 

Thor’s pink face brightened as it had when they were young and Loki almost lost his composure- but he held. As opposed to his counterpart, Thor did not hold his composure as he greedily snatched at the apples in Loki’s hands. Loki easily evaded him and tsked.

“Oh, I don’t think so… If you want something Thor, you will have to earn it.” Thor pouted… and a dark flush speckled his pale face.

“What will you have me do, Loki?” Putting the apples back into Thor’s reach, and finger to his lips in pondering, Loki feigned distracted thoughts. 

“I think I shall have you, brother-“ Loki teasingly pulled the apples away when Thor reached for them once more, “- I think I will have you sit patiently while I tend to your wounds… And,” Thor moaned unhappily- he was distracted from whatever darkness had taken him before and Loki couldn’t help a small glint of triumph. 

“And?” Thor asked hotly. 

“And I shall have you rub my sore feet.” Loki knew that being too generous to Thor would raise suspicion rather than gratitude. Thor blanched and stuck out his tongue. 

“Could you not pity your King for but one night? I grant you tending my damned eye, but I’d rather not suffer your horrid feet.” Now, Loki felt a rush of hot blood stain his face. 

In a moment of rage and embarrassment, Loki gleaned a knife and stabbed Thor’s thigh with a vicious snarl… or he would have, but he barely grazed him and instead ripped a hole into the mattress. Thor yelped in surprise, but laughed heartily. Loki laughed it off as well, shaken by his still very strong homicidal tendencies… madness clung to him still, it would seem… it always had. Thor’s large arms went to encircle him but quickly retreated and Thor settled for a firm hand on his shoulder. 

“Fine then, Loki. Have your way with me.” Loki fretted and shook of the Thunder God’s large hand, fighting to command his own reactions. He had a goal… He had to stick to that goal… there was no danger here… and Thor wasn’t flirting with him. 

Loki needed to focus. He hid the apples once more, and allowed his rob to get caught on his heel.

“Now then, brother,” He took a steadying breath, leaning down to untangle his robs from his shoe, and then…

Loki snapped his slim hips forward, his hands splayed beneath his chest, one leg propped out. 

Thor froze. 

Keeping his face neutral, Loki eased himself back to producing a clean cloth soaked with a magic in fluid movement. This incantation could not remove Hela’s spell, but it would hinder it from working for a long period of time. 

He used this spell for the terminally ill children who were cursed wandering into Jörmungandr’s caves… the idea was to trick, by runes and Old Speak of persuasion, any entity into feeling as though they had completed satisfied the curse. It doesn’t solve the problem, but it would help. 

Loki felt bile rise in his throat remembering this trick used on him several… several times… by the person who taught it to him- Ebony Maw. 

It helped if the subject was complacent… Hela’s curse protected itself by making Thor paranoid and suspicious, keeping those who would aid him incapable of reaching him. 

Besides an occasional tremor, Thor had not moved since Loki had successfully preformed The Bend and Snap. It worked. He mentally made a note to thank Lady Elle Woods when and if they arrived to Midgard. 

A cold shiver crawled up between Loki’s legs… he was entirely too proud and excited to worry about the semantics of ethics- and behaving with such reactionary act of exposure… He wanted to do it again.

“Focus,” mortifyingly, Loki heard himself bite that thought out. The cold shower of reality broke his lewd excitement, and his mind sparked with fiery fear-

“Sorry,” Thor muttered, averting his eyes. Thor bashfully leaned to allow Loki better angles to his eye.

Dumbfounded, Loki breathed a chuckle at his dumb luck.

“Don’t worry dear brother, up until this point you’ve been a model patient.” 

Loki put the last of the words into the spell, speaking the seidr into the pockets inlaid in Thor’s wounds. Slowly, blood stopped pouring, and Thor’s large body lightened with a soft glow. 

“Søvn fortryllet,” Loki whispered in finality. 

That one blue eye rolled shut, a smile on his face as Thor fell back onto his cot, the bed bouncing Loki as he sat unperturbed. 

A chorus of loud, deep cavernous of snores soon followed and Loki turned to look onto the King’s sedated face. He half expected Thor to be able to keep consciousness long enough to engorge himself on an apple, but clearly the thunder god’s exhaustion was beyond his insatiable gluttony and he fell into a slumber just short of a god’s sleep.

Loki allowed himself to pat Thor’s leg, pulling them onto the bed and adjusting Thor’s head to be more comfortable. Nothing would wake him now, but Loki did not mind.

Quietly and swiftly, Loki wiped Thor’s sticky sweat from his prone form, ignoring what he was doing and whether it was necessary or not. 

… None of this handling of his brother’s body is necessary, Loki realizes.

You just want to touch—MONSTER!! His hands gripped his head, Loki’s eyes squeezed shut.

You have a sickness!!  
It is not a sickness!   
His mind countered. 

You were betrayed… you were lied to… you are a King… the rightful king of Asgard… Your brother, in brutish anger, tossed you into an abyss…. 

The Maw’s words crawled back into his skull and Loki’s mind fought for control once more. He needed to remind himself of what had actually happened… even if it was horribly wrong… even if it broke him to do so. Otherwise, he’d lose himself again from the truth.

A hand deftly stroked Thor’s bristled cheek.

“You had never thrown me from the bridge that night...” He repeated in a rasped breath.

“You held onto me, you cried for me… I let go…” He repeated, his finger just barely grazing over the king’s sunken socket.

“I. Let. Go.” Loki cut the words out one by one to coerce satisfaction where his mind could not find it. 

“I wanted to die.” He spit out, his broken white smile tearing his face apart, his green eyes bearing a telling tear. 

And that was it.

He had been doing so well, but he inadvertently led himself into a trap. Figures, he had been so content before.

Loki wretched his hand from his brothers peaceful face, and produced a shining reckoning that tore once, twice, a maddening unnumbered amount of times tossing stuffing into the air, and into Thor’s wind tunnel of a mouth. 

Die, die, die, DIE DIE DIE DIEDIEDIE!! 

A glint of light skipped off the knife as it stilled above Thor’s slowly rising and falling chest.

And Loki broke.

“No…” He cried. The thrill he had felt after displaying himself to his brother came back, but as awful scorn and shame. 

He was crazed, a toothy snarl and a bleat like a half-slaughtered foal in the wolf’s teeth ripped out of him. That was his hell. He was both the hungry wolf and the powerless rabbit in its teeth. A snake eating it’s own tail. 

Loki was poison- a god of lies and trickery. No one he tricked better than the God of Lies and Tricks himself- which was himself. 

Utter madness.

“Utter, profound, madness,” Only on or two tears snatched away and he realized he was hovering over Thor’s drooling mouth. 

A bellowing wind of Thor’s foul breath blew into his face and he found his calm tides once more. 

A sad smile tugged on his lips.

“We can’t both be losing ourselves, my King…” Loki said. 

Both hands, one still clutching the dagger, held him atop the sleeping god’s chest. 

Say it…. You have to say it….   
It’s the only thing that works… 

Loki stared at the bane of his existence for a good while before he could muster enough courage to abandon his attempt at self-realization. Of course he knew what he needed to say it out-loud, but even on sleeping ears, it would not be enough.

Thor was not the bane of Loki’s existence, and he was not the reason Loki was sick. Loki was sick to begin with, and it took him a long time to figure out a sense of balance in interpreting that sickness. 

Before, he had taken his ‘sickness’ and blamed it on his false identity, on his monstrous lineage, and he hated himself and raged. Then, he completely dismissed any ‘sickness’ and sought to protect his dismal sense of self by denying the sickness all together, creating a delusional fantasy that he would have turned out normal enough, circumstances forgotten, if Odin, Laufey, Thor and the Æsir had not themselves been ‘sick’ with arrogance, cruelty, brutish ineptitude, hatred and malice. They had warped him, had been his defining burden for years while a ‘guest’ at the feet of the Titan.

But all those things came from him. Hatred? He hated himself. Arrogance? He presumed he was guiltless. Cruelty and malice? He had that in spades well before Odin’s secret slipped out. Loki may have realized this sooner, if he had not thrown himself into the depth of space in a culmination of his self-loathing. Later, he found himself with a Titan wriggling around in his already fraught, sick mind. 

But with time, the illusion faded and Loki could no longer deny the consequences of his actions… nor the cause of those actions.

It all came back to him. And all because of disappointment, and a little bit of a twisted, broken heart. 

He allowed his mind spiral in thoughts until Thor moved in his sleep, reminding Loki that he had been there a tad too long. He removed all evidence that he was there, and quickly exited the room. 

-

Every bit of distance between himself and Thor calmed him, his mind eased and he could deal with this episode later. 

He was almost to his quarters when, with some stupid bit of luck, Loki collided with the Green Beast of Midgard who had accidently knocked him clear onto his arse. 

The Hulk grunted and bared his teeth at the puny god and Loki froze. 

“Oh shit.”


End file.
